Friday Night Firefight: A Cyberpunk Isekai

My Kusanagi was fast. My Kusanagi was powerful. My Kusanagi was beautiful.

My Kusanagi was parked at my apartment while Anna, Cyndi, and I were stuck driving her Archer Hella and one of the gunrunners’ vans to a meetup with some badges Anna knew.

Cyndi refused to drive the gunrunners’ van, saying she didn’t feel comfortable behind the wheel because she’d never driven one before. That shocked the hell out of me because she used to be a Nomad, and their entire existence revolved around their vehicles. When I asked if she wanted to test out one of the gunrunner vans and get a feel for it, she just shook her head and said she had her eyes on something different. So, I ended up driving the van while Anna and Cyndi rode in Anna’s car. Our plan was to hand over two crates of Tsunami weapons to some cops Anna knew, then drop off the gunrunner van at a local chop shop for a few eddies.

Our meetup with the cops was set in a strip mall outside a Buck-a-Slice. I thought it was a strange spot for a rendezvous between cops and mercs, but when I mentioned it to Anna, she just shrugged and said, “It’s as good a place as any.”

Taking down he gunrunners and their gang customers had netted us a hefty haul: a pile of eddies, a couple vehicles, and nine crates of Tsunami weapons. After talking it over, we all decided to keep one crate for ourselves. The Kyubi assault rifles and Nue pistols were significant upgrades for the crew. Not for me – I still preferred my Kenshin and Chao pistols. But the rest of the crew was thrilled with the new firepower.

We chose to stash two crates for a rainy day, either to sell later or to arm some folk in the homeless camps around Watson. Lately, Scav attacks had decreased when word spread that the homeless camps up north weren’t easy targets anymore. Deng had started supplying weapons to a few people in the camps and even offered to train some of them in self-defense.

Two more crates were earmarked for some cops Anna knew, buying us loyalty and favors with the NCPD. She claimed that department cutbacks left many patrol cars under-equipped, and the badges had been grumbling about it. Handing out some high-tech guns would earn us a lot of brownie points. The remaining four crates would be sold off to various buyers around the city.

Zion and Diego hung back at the DNS building, modding the Tsunami weapons for our crew. Deng was out finding small groups who might be interested in some extra firepower, leaving Anna, Cyndi, and me to handle the badges.

Moments after arriving at the meeting spot, three cars pulled up, and six people got out. It was obvious they were cops from the way they walked toward us and looked at me like I was dirt. Anna still had traces of that NCPD demeanor that bled through from time to time, but it had mostly been washed off since we’d formed our crew. The approaching badges still reeked of “authority,” making me wish we had Diego with us to throw his weight around.

“Sup, Anna. Surprised to see you doing this kind of work,” said one of the cops as he approached. He was an older guy, with grey hair matching the steel of his cyberarms, which he hooked into his gunbelt as he strolled over. He instantly reminded me of that small-town sheriff at the beginning of a Nomad V’s life path; the kind of guy who loved to throw his weight around.

“Is that a problem, Matty?” Anna asked.

“Nah, no problem at all. Heard you’ve been pulling a few gigs here and there, and you’ve been dropping some hints to a few friends. You got nothing to worry about from me. Everyone gets paid, everyone makes a name for themselves, everyone comes out ahead. Well, except for those poor bastards who end up on your hit list,” he said, grinning at Anna.

She snorted and smiled back before motioning him closer to the gunrunner van. She slid open the side door and opened one of the crates, pulling out a Nue pistol.

“Figured you guys could use a little more firepower. I know how rough it is out here, and I know the department-issued Unity’s aren’t all that great.”

“Mighty fine of ya,” said Matty, walking over to the crate and pulling out a Nue for himself. “Speaking of Unity’s, you hear about Jefferson?”

“No, what happened?”

“He was out on patrol. Got caught by a cyberpsycho. He tried putting him down, but all his bullets just plinked off the guy’s subdermals. Backup showed up, but they couldn’t do shit either. Asshole took down two cops before some wandering merc happened by and opened up on him with an LMG he had in the trunk of his Quadra.”

“Shit,” muttered Anna. “Jefferson gonna be okay?”

“Meh,” the cop shrugged. “He’ll live. Just a shame mercs got more firepower than the NCPD these days.”

The five other cops came over and started divvying up the two crates of guns, meticulously checking each one before packing the rest away in the trunk of one of their cars. Matty, who seemed to be the leader of their group, watched his team work while chatting with Anna. I wasn’t paying much attention to their conversation, instead keeping an eye on the badges as they handled the weapons.

Matty’s team handled the Kyubi assault rifles and Nue pistols with a mix of admiration and professionalism, inspecting each weapon before stowing them away. Their movements were quick but thorough, making sure everything was accounted for. As they finished up, one of the younger cops, a fresh-faced guy who looked like he hadn’t been with the NCPD for long, stepped forward to get Anna’s attention. He looked nervous but determined.

“Hey, uh, Anna,” he began, glancing at Matty briefly before continuing. “I wouldn’t mind helping if you ever need another shooter. Heard you’ve been taking out a couple gangs in Watson and…uh, I’d like to help if you ever need it.”

Matty chuckled before saying, “She don’t need your help, kid. Be happy if she throws you a tip every now and then.”

Anna smiled and placed a reassuring hand on the younger cop’s shoulder. “Appreciate the offer. We’ll see how things go. Keep doing your job, and we might need your help down the line.”

The young cop nodded, a hint of relief washing over his face. Matty then gave Anna a respectful nod.

“Well, gotta say I never thought I’d see you on that side of the fence,” he said. “But I understand. If you got any more tips or anything, give me a call. I’ll keep my eyes out for anything that might interest you. We’ll be around, but probably too busy to work with you for the next couple of weeks.”

“Why?” asked Anna.

Matty just tilted his head and gave her a look that said, “how do you not remember?”

“Oh, shit. That time of year again, huh? Okay, we’ll get in touch in a couple weeks then.”

I stepped forward, not knowing what they were talking about. “What’s happening?”

Matty, seeming to notice me for the first time, sighed as if I was just like that young fresh-faced cop who had interrupted his conversation with Anna. “Election season, kid. The greatest time to be a cop in the city.”

&&&

I needed another meeting with The Hun so I reached out through Mor. He had connections with a few of The Hun’s people, and word got round to him. He promised to meet me at the alcove next to Lizzie’s. I didn’t trust the guy – he was slimy and still felt like a corpo to me. But we had to work with what we had, and I had an idea on how I could help Fred, Mor, and the rest of the homeless at the alcove.

I rode my Kusanagi to Lizzie’s – which was only about a half a block away – and parked in the lot. I loved my new bike and wanted to take it everywhere. Leaving it parked in the lot was almost unbearable to me, but I got off it and waltzed over to the alcove where Albert was already waiting, chatting with Fred and Mor.

“Albert,” I greeted him, taking a seat in one of the unoccupied chairs. Everyone in the alcove knew that this meeting was about business, so they mostly left us alone. Albert greeted me with a nod of acknowledgement and Fred smiled when he glanced over at the Kusanagi in the parking lot of Lizzie’s. We all chatted briefly, with Fred and Mor teasing me about splurging on a motorcycle, before we got down to business.

“Noah. What’s on your mind? It almost seemed like you weren’t receptive to the idea of The Pack during our last meeting.”

I leaned back in the chair, studying him. “I’ve been thinking about that. Look, I respect the idea of a protection gang to help out the homeless. The Tyger Claws started as a Japanese-community protection gang. The Mox focused on joytoys. Maelstrom focused on…cyberpsychos I guess. We’ve started building up a network of informants operating out of the alcove. It’s unofficial for now, but it’s happening. Which means we’ve got something like a protection gang going right now. But I think your idea of The Pack is doomed to fail – unless you change a few things.”

Albert’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And why’s that?”

“Sure, there are people at the alcove happy to pass along some information,” I began. “And we’ve got a bounty system set up. The Pack could become an information network that keeps tabs on all the interesting players in the city.”

“Information is a commodity,” said Albert. “One that powerful people are interested in and would pay through the nose to get.”

I nodded and continued, “But if word gets out that the homeless are spying on everyone and using the information they glean to set up raids, what do you think will happen? The Scavs targeting homeless in North Watson would seem like a holiday compared to the backlash we’d face. The entire city would be out for blood. Small gangs, big gangs, mercs, corporations – anybody with a secret to hide would make sure to wipe out any homeless on their block before doing business.”

That seemed to get Fred and Mor’s attention as they glanced over at Albert and he leaned back on the couch, the gravity of my words sinking in. “So, what do you suggest?”

“If you’re serious about setting up The Pack, you need to keep its information-gathering activities a secret. You’d need to recruit other people, and pretend The Pack is making money through them while also protecting the homeless. You can’t just have a homeless gang, or else they’ll be targets for everyone. Draw attention elsewhere while the homeless fly under the radar, continuing their role as an information network.”

Mor interjected. “Who do you have in mind?”

“I’ve got an idea for one group, but I haven’t approached them yet. As for other recruits, I’m not sure who else fits the bill for this hypothetical gang.”

Albert leaned forward. “You know, I’m not unique in Night City.”

Mor and I exchanged puzzled looks.

“I’m sure you’ve looked into my past. How could you not? So, you’re aware I used to work for Arasaka. I got caught up in a powerplay by my bosses that didn’t end well, and I was kicked out. There are more people just like me in Night City – people who were on the wrong end of corporate skullduggery and now have nowhere else to go.”

Albert paused as an idea took shape. “We could also start recruiting low-level mercs.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Young edgerunners always get into the biz thinking they’re going to be the next Morgan Blackhand. When they realize they don’t have that kind of talent or work ethic and they spend their time doing small gigs for small paychecks, they become disillusioned.” Albert nodded, warming to his idea. “They are never going to get an invitation to The Afterlife, but maybe they’ll take an invitation to The Pack.”

“That’s not a horrible idea,” I said. “It would at least bring in some muscle.”

I wasn’t thrilled about putting the alcove under the protection of failed mercs and ex-corpos, but they could take some of the heat while John kept building the homeless network.

“You’ve also got another issue you need to address,” I added.

“And what’s that?”

“You need political backing. Or at least a relationship of sorts.” I couldn’t help but think of one of my favorite movies, The Godfather. The whole conflict of the movie kicked off because Don Corleone was more powerful than the other mob bosses in New York – not just because he made more money, but because he controlled judges and politicians. A gang without connections in law enforcement or politicians or judges is just begging to be taken down.

“It’s election season, and if you’re serious about forming The Pack, you’ll need some people from Night City’s city council in your corner.”

Albert sighed and leaned back, deep in thought. “Ivan Vassilev.”

“Who?”

“He’s the President of Rancho Coronado Workers United. When I was with Arasaka, I knew a few people that the political branch of the company worked with. He can help us navigate the political landscape.”

I nodded. “Alright. I’m out of my depth there. We can set up a meeting with him and he can guide us on how to get the attention of the city council.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Albert.

“Get to recruiting.”

&&&

I’ve got to say, normally the whole pixie haircut/half-shaved head look doesn’t really do it for me. But when I watched Sandra Dorsett step out of her car and head into her building, I kinda got it.

To most people, Sandra Dorsett was a throw-away character in Cyberpunk 2077, tied to V’s first real mission in the game. It was easy to forget about her after that, but if you delved into her backstory and who she was, you’d find out she was connected to one of my favorite mission arcs: Mr. Blue Eyes and Jefferson Peralez. The whole arc had mystery, suspense, a shadowy figure pulling strings in the background. It was great.

Sandra worked for NightCorp, one of the most enigmatic corporations in Night City. As a netrunner, she stumbled upon sensitive information she wasn’t supposed to know, prompting NightCorp to hire some Scavs to disappear her, which essentially kick-started V’s ascent in Night City.

Seeing her in real life, walking into her building, was a surreal experience. I knew that if nothing changed her course, she’d end up captured by Scavs and dumped in a bathtub full of ice in some dingy apartment. The whole ordeal would leave her so traumatized that she’d end up barricaded in her own house, relying on automated security to lock everything down.

I rushed into the building lobby and caught up with Sandra outside a bank of elevators. She’d already pressed the call button and was waiting when I sidled up next to her.

“Ms. Dorsett, big fan.”

“Not interested,” she replied, eyes fixed straight ahead.

The elevator doors opened, and she stepped in, punching the button for her floor. As I followed her in, she shot me a withering glare and sighed.

“I need a netrunner.”

“Not interested.”

“Several netrunners, actually”

“Still not interested. Already got a job.”

“I’m aware. NightCorp,” I said. At the mention of her employer, she perked up. “For most people, it’s a dream job. Voted fifth biggest and best corporation to work for in the city. Three vacation days a year. Only an 80-hour mandatory workweek. It’s the dream.”

“Yep.”

“But we both know you only took the job to get inside information on them.” She stayed silent, so I continued. “I need several netrunners, SandraD. I’m still learning and not the best at it and could use some help going forward.”

I could feel her tense up beside me when I used her net handle, but she quickly composed herself. “Look, kid, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. I’m not gonna help you hack your school records to give you a better grade in gym class or whatever.”

I hated how young I looked. “That’s not what I need you for.”

“Well, like I said, I already have a job.”

“Even if, as part of the payment, I can tell you what NightCorp is doing? I know what you’re searching for in their database, and why it would be disastrous if you found it.”

The elevator doors started to close, but Sandra ran back, her hand shooting out to stop them.

“What’re they doing?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Dorsett, I’ve already given you all the free information I planned to give. And you told me you’re not interested. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to remove your hand, I need to go and recruit another netrunner. It should be fairly easy. All they’ll ask for is money, not a secret that could lead to the next corporate war.”

She forced her way into the elevator and stood next to me but didn’t say anything. I pressed the button for the lobby and calmly waited as the elevator zoomed down. Finally, after what felt like hours, Sandra spoke up.

“What’s the job?”